


A Quiet Conversation

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, References to Canon, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: A quiet conversation in a quiet pub in a quiet London neighbourhood.  Written for JWP #14.





	A Quiet Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Canon references. Lots of canon characters. Written in a complete rush. And absolutely no beta. Written in a huge rush. Be very afraid. I know I am.
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP #14: Ensemble. Include or mention at least five canon characters in your fic.

“Evening, Lestrade.”   
  
I nodded at the fair-haired gentleman sitting near the door of the pub. “Evening, Gregson.”  
  
No titles here. No uniforms. Just quiet voices, two acquaintances greeting each other quietly, as you might expect in a local establishment in a moderately well-off neighbourhood like this one.   
  
We wanted no attention. We weren’t here officially. I’d been surprised to see Gregson when I first ran across him more than a fortnight ago, but I really shouldn’t have been. Nor was I much surprised when he told me he’d seen both the Joneses lingering near a local bakery that morning. Abernathy did love his pastries.  
  
It hadn’t taken us long to work out something of a schedule, one that seemingly grew every day. “Anything interesting on?” I asked casually.  
  
“No, it’s been quiet lately,” Gregson replied in the same tone. He lowered his voice after the publican brought over my usual. “Bradstreet’s on now, just back from following him on his rounds. No trouble, but he reported two street arabs following him, and a young tough lingering around the back door of the house.”   
  
His words might have been alarming, except for two things: the faint bit of sardonic humour quirking up one corner of his lips, and my own knowledge. “Wiggins and his gang?”   
  
“None other. Bradstreet’s never had cause to notice them, apparently.”   
  
“I guess we have more help watching the Doctor and his household than we realized. I imagine they’re thick on the ground at Baker Street, too.”  
  
Gregson looked a bit disdainful at that. “It’s not likely they’d try anything there now. There’s no one left there but their landlady, and they’re not likely to take much notice of her.”  
  
I didn’t agree with Gregson on that, any more than I agreed with him on most things, but it wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to point out the error of his ways. “The last of the trials can’t be over soon enough for me,” I offered instead. The power of the gang wouldn’t be completely broken until the worst of the lot were safely convicted and hanged.  
  
“He’ll be safer then,” Gregson agreed. “And we won’t let anything happen to him.”  
  
Unspoken but heavy between us was the memory of the man whom we hadn’t been able to protect. Who’d died, because we’d failed to stop Moriarty from escaping the net he’d woven for us to catch him and his gang in. He was gone now, but not forgotten – and neither was the only man we’d ever seen him call friend. No second-hand vengeance was going to find Doctor Watson and his wife.    
  
Gregson drained the last of his glass. “I’d best be getting on,” he said once he’d finished. “Brown and I are due at the Yard early in the morning.”   
  
“And Morton should be waiting for me at the corner by now.” I finished my own beer, and together we walked out the door before going our separate ways.  
  
I’d see him again tomorrow.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  _"As to the gang, it will be within the memory of the public how completely the evidence which Holmes had accumulated exposed their organisation, and how heavily the hand of the dead man weighted upon them. Of their terrible chief few details came out during the proceedings, and if I have now been compelled to make a clear statement of his career it is due to those injudicious champions who have endeavoured to clear his memory by attacks upon him whom I shall ever regard as the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known."_  
>  \- Doctor Watson, The Final Problem
> 
> Originally posted July 14, 2017.


End file.
